


The One Who Got Away

by YourLovelyInday



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, slight sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLovelyInday/pseuds/YourLovelyInday
Summary: The reader returns to her hometown of Arcadia Bay and applies for a job as a teaching assistant under the watch of Mark Jefferson, Blackwell Academy's heartthrob of a teacher. Little does she know, he has something more in store for her. (Kind of occurs before the events of Life is Strange.)
Relationships: Mark Jefferson/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	The One Who Got Away

When the week ended, you don't expect it to be trapped in a goddamn bunker in the middle of the fucking night away from your apartment. 

As you lay in a heap on the floor, bound by duct tape from your head to hands, your mind drifts back to what led you to where you are. 

What happened that caused you to be here? 

~  
Moving back to Arcadia Bay was a dream come true for you. After spending four years at (University), you returned home with a BFA in Photography and where else would you rather be to see your career take off than in Oregon? 

Okay, maybe that last part was a bit of a lie, but you were glad to be back. Graduating from (University) was a lifelong goal of yours, but leaving Blackwell Academy was one of the most difficult things you could've done. The friends and family you'd leave behind, the struggle to adapt to a new environment, and the wonderful teachers you had. One, in particular, you were very fond of and his name was Mark Jefferson, aka, the cute photography professor. 

The fates must've been in your favor because as soon as you came back, Blackwell offered you a position as a teacher's assistant alongside none other than Mark Jefferson. You'd be honored to help in his teachings, provided that you'd be able to help out the students too. 

The day you begin, you dress up casually, opting to wear (f/c) sweater and a pair of jeans, matched with some boots. You style your hair as normal, add a headband and apply makeup, making sure to highlight certain parts of your face for an extra pop of look. 

Grabbing your traveling cup of hot Chai tea, you run out of the door, saying goodbye to your fluffy gray Himalayan cat, Lola. 

~  
The drive to the academy is a peaceful one with you casually glancing out the window to take in the ocean's view and the wonderful sea breeze. 

It's heavenly but alas, you must come down from Cloud Nine and face reality. Work begins in a half hour. 

~

Ten minutes later, you arrive at the school and rush inside, eager to get yourself set up. 

The new principal, Ray Wells, greets you once you come through the office. 

Besides him, you greet the rest of the old staff: Katherine, Marty, Lorna, Ulysses, Sabine, who are quite happy to see you return. 

While you're doing this, you're finally reunited with the one and only, Mark Jefferson and boy, has he aged like fine wine. 

Like the charming man he is, his voice is liquid sex, running past your ears in a strong and humble sound that churns your stomach. 

"Long time no see, Miss (l/n). It's great to see you and I'm thrilled to be working with you. Think you can manage those kids?" he asks jokingly, a sincere smile on his lips. 

Your face brightens, "They won't be much of a problem. I've dealt with worse." 

He rakes a hand through his hair, a gesture that makes your heart skip a beat. 

"I'll bet you have, but this is the first semester, you know? It may look simple now and it will be. However, give it a couple of weeks and you'll be ready to give up just like I am every single day."

You smirk, "We'll be okay and I'm sure you can manage. You've done it a lot longer than I have." 

Just like he predicted, a week has passed by and already, those damn kids are annoying the hell out of you. You find sympathy among those who keep to themselves and actually tune in and listen, unlike those mindless twits that text or have side conversations. Then again, you'd be that kid doing the same thing if you were in this class for an hour and a half. 

Working with Jefferson is a blessing because not only do you reminisce on your high school years, but he's more relaxed around you, opting to get you to call him Mark since you aren't a student anymore. 

And that's where your work relationship furthered into more than a professional one. 

You have to admit that although you thought him to be attractive and someone you could date, you're already in love with someone else, that person being a guy you met and dated in uni. Hell, you've been engaged to him for a few months so you couldn't betray him like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Mark Jefferson and his charm are just the tip of the iceberg, the latter being used for something more heinous than you'd like to see. 

Around 9:30 PM on Thursday night, you are grading essays in the classroom, sleep beginning to wear you down. 

Struggling to stay awake, you look over to see Mark stacking a bunch of papers on his desk, his work completely done. 

"How are you done already?" you say out of disbelief. 

He chuckles, "When you've been doing this job for as long as I have, you adjust to the late-night work sessions."

You smile and nod groggily, tapping your pen on the papers. You don't think you can get used to this. 

"I suppose you're right, but I have to go or else I'll fall asleep here and that'll be the most embarrassing thing for you to see, " you say, grabbing your bag and files. 

Mark resumes putting away his paperwork in his desk, choosing to browse through the grade book to update the grades. 

"Would you like me to walk you to your car?" 

You blush and for once, you're happy it's not too bright in the room. He'd laugh his ass off if he saw how flustered you are. 

"No, thank you for the offer. I'll be able to manage from here. See you Monday?"

You wave him goodbye and prepare to leave the building, fishing through your bag for your keys. 

Ugh, searching through this damn handbag was gonna cost you an arm and a leg once of these days. It might just be now. 

You find them and fiddle with them on your way to the teacher's parking lot when you feel something sharp prick your neck. 

All of a sudden, you're woozy and fall back into someone's arms. 

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you, (y/n). "

Your bag drops from your hands as you pass out, unable to catch a glance of the perpetrator. 

~

You come to hours later, cold brushes of air hitting your face. 

Still kinda sleepy, you force your eyes open to come to the understanding that you're not in the parking lot nor are you at the school. 

Instead, you're in some kind of underground basement, complete with a desk, desktop, shelves, couch, coffee table, extremely expensive camera equipment and some of the most fucked up pictures you've laid eyes on.

Struggling to move, your eyes scan the area. You're half nude from the waist down. Your pants are nowhere to be found, your shirt is ripped and your underwear is bunched up at the bottom of your ankles. 

The only thing that remains on you is your jacket and your bra. 

You squirm around, resisting the urge to yell. 

"Don't move so much, (y/n), " a man's voice coos. 

*Click*

Flash after flash, you wrinkle your nose at the harsh light and turn away. 

"Stop fucking moving! You're ruining the shot!" 

A figure stands over you and pushes you onto your side with gloved hands, their voice and face unrecognizable at this point. 

Your vision is still blurry and the light isn't helping. 

Blinking away your weariness, you focus on the figure and just like that, your heart sinks. 

"M-Mark..." you whimper, gasping for breath. 

His spectacled face comes into view and only then do you realize how much danger you're in. 

"Yes, (y/n). I'm so sorry it had to come to this point. If this were somebody else, I probably wouldn't fucking care, but it's you," he laments rather mockingly, putting down his camera to kneel in front of you. 

You turn away, but he grabs hold of your head and makes you look him in the eyes. 

Unlike the former professor and co-worker you're used to, this man is completely deranged and psychotic. It's like he's being possessed by a demon, lacking any emotion or empathy for you. 

His brown eyes are clouded by lust, for what, you haven't a clue. 

The sleeves of his blue dress shirt are rolled up to the elbow and he's using gloves, probably not to leave any forensic evidence behind in case you get caught. 

"How could you do this to me? I've always admired you and your work. What did I do to deserve this?" you ask, arms too weak to move. 

He chuckles and caresses your cheek with a gloved hand, letting a strand of your (h/c) hair fall over your eye. 

Gently, his fingers find your chin and grip it tightly, "Because I liked you a lot. You were one of my favorite students and the day you graduated was one I grew to hate. You left me and it broke me apart. It took me a while to vent and recover, but once I got wind of your return and potential plan to stay, the urges resurfaced. I thought I could keep them at bay, but you're so overwhelming, (y/n). I mean, look at you! You're absolutely gorgeous and you have a great body, the way your pupils dilate when you're fearful. God, I couldn't stop." 

The drug he slipped into you earlier has begun to wear off and at last, blood flow has returned to your hands and legs. 

Your legs are free, but your hands are bound by thick strips of tape. 

You've got to come up with something quick! 

"Why keep talking? Finish me off. Isn't that your plan?" you tell him, biting your lip. 

An evil grin makes its way to his lips as he heads back to the rolling cart in the back. 

"You know me so well."

You can't see what's he's doing but you have to do something to delay the inevitable. 

Then it comes out so fast, you don't think you actually said it. 

"Wait, please. If you're going to end  
me, don't let me die a virgin. At least let me have the pleasure of having sex before you kill me. Maybe it'll give you something to remember me by."

He stops mere inches away from ending you with a long hypodermic needle. 

Fuck... 

The thought lingers and thankfully, he buys the bait. 

"Alright then. I can't deny a request to such a pretty girl."

Inwardly, you sigh. 

Well, this shouldn't be too bad, given the fact that you're actually not a virgin and that those acting lessons better fucking work. 

Abandoning the needle, he sweeps you into his arms and carries your "limp" body to the couch. 

If this was under normal circumstances, you'd be excited, but alas, you're nervous as hell and quite scared. 

Just because it's sex and it's you, does NOT mean that he'll be gentle; that should be common sense. You're not a virgin, yes, but that doesn't mean it makes things easier for you. 

What makes you think that he'll treat you accordingly since you asked for a last-minute request before impending doom? 

Laying you down, his hands trail down your thighs and spreads them apart, fingers grazing the plump flesh of your slickness; unfortunately for you, you're undeniably wet. 

You shut your eyes and clench your legs together, making more trouble for yourself and not for him. In fact, he's enjoying this and you can tell by the stiffness grazing your thigh through his dress pants. 

This is acting, but you can't help but get aroused from his touches. 

Your breath quivers when he removes his gloves and inserts a digit inside of you, gradually sliding back and forth. 

Taken over by a new persona, he takes his glasses off and tucks them into his pocket, using his free hand to massage your aching breast. 

Your body convulses, pleasure rippling throughout your body. Your womanhood pulses and squeezes around his finger, desperate to keep it inside of you. 

His lips press against your lips and try as you might resist, your body accepts him and opens up, allowing his tongue to enter and play with yours. You let out an involuntary moan and feel somewhat defeated that he's most certainly that he's going to have his way with you a little sooner than you think. 

Though your hands are useless at this point, your legs aren't. 

While he's peppering your neck with kisses, you carefully draw your knee forwards and bring it upwards with all the strength you can muster, striking him directly in the groin. 

He lets out a loud yelp and falls off of you, giving you enough time to bite through the tape and free your hands. 

As he holds himself in pain, your eyes dart around frantically for car keys and find them on the desk. 

Diving over the couch, you snatch them and bolt towards the door, pushing it open. 

You're still naked, but you don't care. 

Hands shaking, you flip through the set and use them on the car inside the barn, looking to make sure he hasn't followed you. 

Hopping inside, you turn the car on and roll it into drive, driving through the closed doors of the barn. 

Without another look, you drive off onto the dirt path, never to be seen again. 

Hissing through his pain, Jefferson mutters angrily under his breath. 

_That bitch got away... She actually fucking got away._

The reality of it is shocking, and more nerve-wracking than it should be. 

Luckily for you, he's got more plans and they all start with finding you. 

You're free... For now.

**Author's Note:**

> If I need to edit this to make it explicit, I certainly will. And pardon me, but I will never stop loving Mark freaking Jefferson for as long as I live! Also, first semi-lime/ semi-lemon for me! XD


End file.
